


always better down the line

by threeplusfire



Series: Bad Things Come In Threes [7]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Blood, Dubious Consent, Fae manipulation, M/M, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Midwinter approaches, the Garbage Court deals with debts old and new, and finds their bonds tested as they deal with the King of Misrule they never got around to killing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	always better down the line

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 Yogscast Big Bang, and beautifully accompanied by this excellent [playlist](http://dicklark.tumblr.com/post/105900479554/kids-count-hallelujahs-a-garbage-court-fanmix-to), this beautiful [set of profiles](http://dicklark.tumblr.com/post/105900453954/welcome-to-the-garbage-court-a-companion-piece) and this [illustration](http://dicklark.tumblr.com/post/105900469669/fuck-you-ross-spat-get-out-of-my-party) all created by Hannah who is completely fucking awesome.

Inside the fridge, Ross could see a couple packs of beers and a lot of tupperware labelled in Trott’s precise handwriting. He pushed some of them aside, hoping to find leftover take out boxes or something to eat. There were a lot of condiments - mustards, hot sauces, a ridiculous number of jams and jellies, a bottle of maple syrup. But they were useless without something to put them on, and Ross’ stomach growled. He stared at the glass jar of blueberry preserves and sighed morosely. He could just give up and eat that with a spoon.

Sips was out bowling, Trott was still at the shop and Smith was who knew where. Probably driving around the city with some unfortunate soul in his passenger seat and eating french fries. His stomach growled again. Behind him, rain drummed steadily against the floor to ceiling windows. Ross frowned. He hated the rain and wasn’t about to go out unless someone was bleeding to death.  Hunching his shoulders against the memory of cold and water running into his eyes, Ross leaned against the kitchen counter in the hopes that someone would come home soon.

The sound of the front door slamming brought Ross out of his reverie, and he stopped scratching idle patterns into the travertine floor with the tip of his tail. He pushed off the counter and greeted Trott excitedly as he wandered into the kitchen.

“Trott!”

“Yes, Ross?”

“Is there anything to eat?”

“Dunno, mate.” Trott dropped his bag on the kitchen table. His hair was wet from the rain and he shrugged out of his coat.

“Everything in there has your name on it,” Ross began. “I didn’t know what was actual food and what was magic.”

Trott raised an eyebrow and opened the fridge. It was rather full of his projects and distinctly lacking in actual food, he noted. Well, he did still have that thing of lasagna from the other night. From the corner of his eye, he watched Ross shift hopefully in his spot. He let the door swing shut. Behind him, Ross made a disappointed noise.

“Hungry?”

“Yes,” Ross nodded.

Trott smiled at him. Sips was leery of anything that might be magical in his food, and Smith didn’t give a damn if something belonged to him or not. But Ross, he waited and asked. It was charming in a weird way. Trott was so pleased by it he decided to reward him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and searched for the number for Uchi, his favorite Japanese place nearby.

“Let’s order dinner, yeah?” Trott tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear, smiling at Ross. He rattled off instructions to someone in a quiet voice.

“What are we eating?” Ross’ voice was sharp with interest and appetite.

“Sushi. Really expensive sushi.”

“Have we eaten that?”

“I have. You haven’t.”

“Oh.” Ross brightened, intrigued by the prospect of new tastes. He loved eating new things. Food still felt novel to him. It wasn’t until he came out of the church and started this new existence that Ross ever ate or behaved much like a living, breathing creature. But whatever had broken when Smith burned down the church, whatever happened when he bound Ross to him, it changed something in Ross and made him more alive. For that, Ross was glad. Especially when it came to eating.

The delivery kid showed up quick and Trott was generous with the tip. Ross hovered over his shoulder, peering at the packages Trott set on the kitchen table. Trott sat down in one of the pale wooden chairs and toed his shoes off with relief. A long, boring day was about to be so much more entertaining.

“C’mere,” he said, gesturing for Ross to settle on the floor at his feet. One of these days maybe he’d look into finding some furniture strong enough for Ross not to worry about destroying it. But this was nice too, because Ross always sat close enough to touch.

Ross arranged himself sideways between Trott’s legs so he could lean on Trott’s knee and watch him open the many tiny boxes. He fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie.

“What is all this?”

“This, this is really fucking good food.”

“But what-”

“Hush.” Trott stroked his hair. “I’ll show you, hang on.”

Ross hummed, eager and curious.

“Just like being back at the old place,” Trott said under his breath. “But a lot fucking better, that’s for sure.”

“Do you miss where you came from?” asked Ross, curious.

“Nope, not at all.” Trott lined up the little boxes on the table. Neat slices of fish gleamed, translucent pink and orange and pearled white. Reddish tentacles curled tightly, a pair of baby octopus wrapped in strips of nori. Soft white scallops were dotted with tiny orange roe.

“Here, let’s start with this one.” He picked up a pale sliver of fish in his fingers, turning it gently so the rice was facing up. Instead of reaching for it, Ross just leaned over his knee and bit it carefully in half. Trott laughed, delighted by the unexpectedness of the moment. He popped the other half of the nigiri into his mouth.

“Alright then.” He picked up the second slice of sea bass and dipped it in the tiny ramekin of soy sauce. “Now try it with the sauce.” He fed it to Ross and watched his face in profile.

The soft white slice of escolar made him wrinkle his nose in confusion.

“It doesn’t taste like anything.”

“So try this.” Trott gave him a shrimp, sweet and cold. He chewed on one, crunching the tail in his mouth as he remembered eating them a very long time ago on the bottom of the ocean. Ross chewed them happily and Trott fed him two more. It was a game now, Ross keeping his hands on Trott’s leg and waiting for the next piece.

The pinkish tint of the translucent red snapper reminded Ross of glass. A tiny smidge of avocado and black roe decorated the top of the piece. The fish crunched between his teeth with a snap that reminded him of the shrimp.

Ross made a delighted sound as he chewed the tiny red octopus. They were less solidly chewy than the larger slices of octopus, more tender.

Trott popped a piece of sea bass into his mouth, trying to remember the last time he ate fish. He picked up a slice of the fancy roll, shrimp tempura with onions and avocado, topped with grilled crab meat. It was the real stuff, sweet. It tasted of lemon and smoke from the grill. Trott was convinced cooking made almost everything more palatable.

He went down the line of boxes, explaining each one and letting him try them each with and without the soy sauce. Between pieces he fed Ross little slices of pickled ginger. The tang of them delighted Ross and he sucked at Trott’s fingers in hopes of more. Trott laughed and patted his back, telling him to be patient. Ross leaned hard on his leg, arm tucked around his calf. Trott loved the way he glowed under a little one on one attention.

Smith breezed in, slinging his jacket onto a counter with a clatter of buckles and metal. His hair gleamed, slightly damp, and his eyes were bright.

“What’s for dinner?” Smith reached for one of the boxes on the table.

“Stop stealing off other people’s plates,” hissed Trott. “That’s Ross’ dinner.”

“Alright, chill out!” Smith made a face and pulled his hand back.

“I am ravenous,” he announced as he opened the fridge with a little more force than necessary. The jars in the door rattled. Trott watched him silently as he rummaged through the fridge, pulling out various containers. He shushed Ross, offering him another piece of sushi and stroking his hair when he would have said something. He raised his eyes to Trott’s face and chewed carefully, savoring the salty taste of the salmon roe popping in his mouth.

Smith opened containers, sniffing and picking at things. He stuck one in the microwave and turned it on, a low fuzzy hum. The bell echoed loudly in the quiet kitchen. Ross leaned his head on Trott’s leg.

Smith caught Trott watching him and grinned, unrepentantly. He swiped another container out of the fridge and made a pleased noise. He dropped into the chair opposite Trott’s at the table.

“Dessert first,” Smith declared. He picked up one of the pastel marshmallow sweets and popped it into his mouth.

“Can I have dessert?” Ross asked.

“Not that, I’ll get you something else.” Trott patted him, waiting.

Smith chewed, a smug look on his face. But after a few seconds, the smugness was replaced by consternation. His jaw worked, slower now. Trott stared at him, face carefully neutral. Smith put a hand to his face and made a muffled sound of annoyance.

“Problem?” Trott asked in a silky voice. He cupped Ross’ chin with one hand and fed him the last bite of tuna. Ross’ lips brushed his fingertips and he made a little noise of pleasure at the taste.

Smith’s annoyed noise only made him laugh. Trott reached across the table and picked up the tupperware container of lasagna. It was already warm, no sense in wasting it. Smith would be ages trying to chew through that marshmallow.

“So that’s new,” he said casually as he forked up a bite of lasagna. “Expands in your mouth, makes an excellent gag.”

Smith drummed his fingers on the table. Trott raised an eyebrow at him and ate another bite of lasagna.

“Thought you learned your lesson last time Smith.” He continued eating desultorily as Smith expressed his irritation in a variety of obscene gestures. On the floor, Ross rolled his eyes at Smith as he chewed the last bite of sushi.

Trott carried the dish back over to the sink, set it down with all the others and washed his hands. Getting to be time to throw everything out, or maybe have Ross actually do the dishes. He opened the fridge and hunted for the tiny silver dessert box he brought home the other night.

“You like caramel things, don’t you?” he asked Ross. He found a clean fork in a drawer, miracle of miracles.

Ross watched Smith over the edge of the table, trying not to look as amused as he felt. Smith made a noise that Ross was pretty sure was “fuck you, Trott.” Ross reached under the table with his tail, brushing Smith’s leg. Trott’s legs bumped his shoulders as he sat back down. Distracted, Ross peered into the dessert box, admiring the tiny caramel tarts with their little puffs of whipped cream.

“Here you are, sunshine.” Trott fed him a forkful of the tart, the pastry shell crumbling. Ross closed his eyes, savoring the burnt sugar sweetness and the buttery tart shell. Trott scooped out another bite and held it out, enjoying Ross’ blissful expression. He looked across the table at Smith.

“One day, Smith, you’ll learn to ask first.”

Smith glared from the other side of the table. Slumped forward on his elbows, he chewed the thick candy foam.

Trott looked back down at Ross, sitting on his heels and waiting eagerly. Trott set the fork on the table and fed him the last of the tart with his fingers, crumbs and the thick caramel smearing his hand. As Trott expected, Ross licked his fingers clean. He raised his eyes to Smith, who was watching them with an unusually quiet intensity. Ross tried not to smile as he looked up, sucking at Trott’s fingers a little more than necessary but encouraged by Trott’s amusement.

Smirking, Trott lifted the other tart to his mouth and took a bite with relish. He fed the rest of it to Ross.

“No more?” Ross said, a hint of disappointment in his voice when it was gone. He gnawed playfully on Trott’s hand.

“You can’t still be hungry.” Trott leaned down to kiss him on the forehead, and then the mouth. He tasted like caramel, buttery and sweet.

 

* * *

 

“Shit,” Will said under his breath as he looked at his phone. The text message alert beeped again, a tiny musical chime and a blinking green light.

“What?” Ross asked. He was stretched forward on his stomach, head resting on his arms. They were taking turns playing some platformer jumping puzzle game.

“Uh,” hedged Will. He rolled over, letting his controller fall on the bed and picked up the phone. Ross turned his head to the other side curiously. He watched Will chew on his lip, looking worried as he tapped out a message on his phone. Ross pushed himself up on his elbows.

“I’m so screwed,” Will groaned as he dropped the phone.

“Why?”

“Well.” Will explained that Kirin expected him to turn up with keys, magical keys of some kind. There was a small office located inside the general city planning hub downtown, in the middle of one of those ugly late 20th century buildings of smoked glass and steel. Apparently it was the only place in the city to find this particular thing. Ross wondered why Kirin didn’t go himself, and decided it was probably a place fae needed more invitation. But Will, he could walk right in with his little human soul. Trott might, he thought. Trott could get into a lot of places. He snapped his attention back to Will, who was still going on about how much he hated trying to get anywhere in the city when everything was surging like an electric sea.

“Can you help me?” He rolled back over to put his head on Ross’ shoulder.

“Maybe.” Ross settled his head back down on his arms. “What’s in it for me?” He was only kidding but Will started talking again about how the witch was only in the office at certain hours and in a way that made it clear he didn’t quite realize that asking for a favor was something he should be far more careful about. Or even that Ross would hold him to it if he actually committed to the debt. He considered stopping him, explaining. But Will was his own person, and Ross couldn’t understand how someone with Xephos for an uncle could be so painfully naive about the way of the world.

“I could just copy it, get into the computer like at the bank.” Will leaned comfortably into Ross, tapping the game controller with one hand. “But they have security, magical security I mean. It would have to be during rush hour when everything connects and the energy is high enough that I could get inside.”

“Why haven’t you gone?” Ross asked, stalling for time while he considered the situation.

“It’s awful, being in the midst of the city then.” Will sighed. “I feel like I’m drowning.”

“You know I can’t do what it is you do, right?”

“But they have hard copies, USB drives.” Will looked at him, eyes guileless and honest. “You robbed banks. You could steal a USB drive. How hard could that be?”

“Says the man who never robbed a bank.”

“I just talked to the computer, “ Will said defensively. Ross snorted.

“The hard copy will work for you?”

“Yeah.”

“You really want me to do this?” asked Ross, a skeptical look on his face.

“Please?”

Ross looked at him for a long moment before he nodded.

 

* * *

“In theory, how hard would it be to get ahold of USB drive out of the city’s planning office?” Ross asked.

“Why are you asking?” Trott looked at him with narrowed eyes. “What on earth do you need a USB drive for anyways?”

“I think you’re going to like this.” Ross grinned, a sharpness in his expression. “It’s a chance to put something over on your least favorite city resident.” He explained Will’s problem, the issue with getting an appointment with the witch in the planning office and obtaining the drive.

“Interesting.” Trott drew out the word, looking thoughtful. “We could do it.”

“We could trick it, make it not work or work just enough to backfire on him.”

“Or,” Trott suggested. “We earn ourselves quite a debt from your little boyfriend.”

“Or that,” Ross shrugged.

“That actually might be more useful, given how deep he’s in with that horned shitlord.” Trott grimaced. He was still angry about Kirin’s not so subtle attempt to take Ross for his collection. Anything he could do to mess with something or someone that belonged to Kirin, he would take the opportunity. The idea of holding a debt on Will was tempting. Maybe even enough to do some real damage to Kirin and his high and mighty hold on the city.

“Do you know what he wants it for?” asked Trott as he stretched out on the sofa.

“Will didn’t seem to know. It’s something to do with the city water lines.”

“What would he want in there I wonder.”

“It’s the underground.”

“Bad place these days.” Trott pondered that. If Kirin was going to deal with the monster in the dark, he’d gladly stay out of the way. But he suspected Kirin was happy enough to let it free roam on territory the Garbage Court would otherwise control.

“He said it was a key.” Ross put his hands on the window, looking down towards the street. “Magic I guess. Something Will might be able to manipulate. I’m not really sure.”

“There’s something down there he wants then.” Trott put his feet up on the back of the sofa and shifted around so his head was hanging upside down off the seat. “Alright, I’ll set it up and we’ll go down there.”

 

* * *

Late afternoon sunlight gilded the office buildings, making them much more lovely. The trees planted along the main avenues shed their leaves, red and gold and brown. Trott and Ross walked side by side down the sidewalk, glamoured to appear as normal as possible.

“Do I have to go in too?” Ross looked up at the buildings and tried not to twitch his tail into people passing them by on the sidewalk.

“If I can’t sweet talk them out of it, I’ll need you.”

“It can’t be that difficult if he sent Will to get it.”

“He probably expected Will to bat those pretty eyelashes at their computers.”

Ross laughed. That was entirely likely.

Trott checked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He looked remarkably human and nonthreatening, in a dark blue suit and a pair of  black framed glasses. His glamour was only to enhance the normality of his appearance, a gentle impression of trustworthiness and something to make his smile less threatening.

“I’ll call you when I’m inside, you come up. They won’t let me see her right away if I go in now. Should give you enough time.”

“Alright.”

Getting inside the building was easy, with his appointment and a little flirting with the receptionist. Trott loved being able to bend the rules of the game. He leaned on the front desk and smiled as he dialed Ross’ number to invite him inside.

 

* * *

The witch in the office looked hard at Trott, no doubt seeing the glamour on him. Whether she quite recognized him, he didn’t know. When did he ever talk to people like this?

“What do you want?” she snapped. Her hair was scraped back into a tight knot, giving her face a severe cast over her serviceable business clothes. Definitely not swayed by his charm, Trott noted.

“Just here to acquire something and be on my way,” Trott said, raising his hands in a non threatening gesture. He smiled without showing his teeth.

“I don’t do business with folks like you.” She definitely recognized him, then. Trott suppressed a sigh.

“Doesn’t the city have some kind of non-discrimination ordinance?” Trott asked conversationally. The witch pressed her lips into a tight line.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Trott said after a moment of silence. He took off the useless glasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket. “Let’s do this the easy way.”

“What do you want?” the witch repeated, clearly stalling in some vain hope.

“USB drive, with the keys to open the way to the city water lines.”

“No,” she shook her head.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not the one going down there.”

“I can’t give you that.”

Trott sighed and crossed his legs, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen, at the witch across the desk from him and fired off a text message.

“This is really making my day much more inconvenient.”

“I want you to leave, now.”

“Ah, but you didn’t invite me in. Or him.” Behind him, Ross opened the door. Trott didn’t even turn round, listening to his heavy steps. The witch turned pale, no doubt seeing straight through Ross’ glamour. One day Trott was going to sit him down and teach him to apply it more carefully.

“Last chance.” Trott smiled, this time with teeth. “Hand it over.”

Instead she stood up, knocking her chair back as she tried to invoke some last ditch defensive spell. But Ross was already over the desk, crashing into her. She screamed, high and loud. Trott wasn’t worried about the noise though. Ross would have seen to things before coming in. He was thorough.

“Tell me where it is.” Ross lifted her so she was facing Trott. Her hair was coming loose.

“Please-”

“Shut up and tell me where it is, or I’m going to cut your throat and toss your office.”

She squeaked as Ross tightened his grip on her arms. He could feel the bones under her skin.

“They’re warded -” she gasped in pain.

“So unward the fucking things already.” Trott impatiently stood up.

She whispered something and Trott felt the magic slither through the room. He caught the glow on her desk drawer and stepped forward to yank it open. A half dozen little boxes were lined up inside. He picked them all up to stuff into Ross’ backpack. They could sort them out later, and he was already in here so he might as well turn some profit off this little mess.

The knife slid out of her before she even reacted. Ross held her head up so Trott could watch her expression shift from surprise to shock to horror.

_“No!”_

Heavy red stained the pale cotton of her blouse, soaking down to her waist. Trott counted the seconds in his head, watching her die. Couldn’t be helped, he told himself. Just too much of a problem. Also something to put on Will’s tab, the trouble and the blood.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ross said as he let the body fall to the floor.

“What did you do with the secretary?” Trott asked, wiping the blade off on the dead witch’s jacket. She had recognized them and he didn’t want it getting out so soon that they came here.

“She’s out.” Ross shrugged. “Still breathing, unless you want her to stop.”

Trott wasn’t worried about the appointment booking or the secretary. The human name he used belonged to someone already dead, and the glamour would confuse her recollections of them enough not to make any issues for them. Kirin might suspect something was up, but that would be up to Will to explain to him. Trott chuckled to himself, trying to imagine that conversation.

 

* * *

“Oh,” Will breathed in relief. “You got it.”

“Yes,” Ross said very simply. He could be sparing with his words, so it wasn’t unusual. He hoped Will would not ask him exactly how he managed to get it.

“Thank you.” Will lifted the USB drive in its tiny mesh cage out of his hands. “You’re a life saver.” He turned away to set the drive on his desk, cheerfully relieved that Kirin would never know what a mess he made of a very simple task. Ross shook his head at Will. He was quite fond of him, but gods above and below Will was careless. It would be a kindness to teach him a lesson.

“You should be more careful in the future,” he warned as he kissed the back of Will’s neck and pressed himself up against him. Will made a distracted noise of assent that turned into a moan as Ross’ hands slid around him and under his shirt. He pushed back, rubbing himself shamelessly against Ross. Whatever Trott had planned, it wasn’t going to be entirely fun for Will. He might think this was paid off easily with a blow job. Ross knew better. He was still going to take the blow job and the cuddling though.

 

 

* * *

 

The front door slammed and Trott glanced up with a frown. His puzzlement grew when Sips stomped past, expression stormy.

“What’s up with you?” Trott asked, getting up to follow him. Sips headed for the coat closet in the hallway, pulling off his jacket and hat along the way.

“Fucking Smiffy.”

“What did he do?”

“He killed one of the guys on my team!”

“Really?” Trott squinted. “You’re sure it was him?”

“Yeah,” complained Sips. “Fucking did him in his own car, behind the fucking bowling alley! There were cops all over the place.”

“Fuck,” Trott said succinctly. That was actually kind of terrible. He’d never seen Sips so irritated.

“That fucking asshole. We’re supposed to play a tournament soon and now I’ve got to find some other guy to take Dale’s spot… jeez what am I supposed to say to the rest of the guys?”

Trott frowned, thinking about it. Sips ranted about the hassle of getting another decent player on the team and the unfairness of Smith drowning one of his best players.

“I’ll take care of it,” promised Trott. He stretched his neck, rolling his head back and forth.

“You’d better,” Sips said with some irritation. “Dale was a damn good bowler.”

“He just needs a little lesson.” Trott looked thoughtful.

Sips stuffed his bowling gear into the hall closet, leaving his bag precariously on top of a pile of coats. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face with a morose expression.

“Fucking _Dale._ Fucking _Smiffy_.”

“Want a margarita, Sips?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He put his hand on Trott’s shoulder, giving him a sad smile. Somewhere in his gut, Trott felt the twist of it and the desire to fix it. He knew on some level it came from the magic, from their perversion of the ritual of midwinter. But he thought part of it too was actual affection after nearly a year of having their king.

In the kitchen, Trott swirled the glass of tequila and ice in one hand as he looked for the luridly colorful sour mix Sips preferred. He wondered where Smith was now. Sips had come home in a taxi.

“So what are you going to do?” asked Sips.

“Put a fucking saddle on him if I have to,” Trott muttered.

“You think you can?” Sips’ look was challenging.

“You think I can’t?”

“I think you think you can,” Sips retorted.

“Watch me.” Trott smiled, his expression lacking any kindness. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was just as dangerous as the other two, given how ordinary he appeared. Sips laughed and ruffled his hair. He liked it when Trott brought out the knives. Trott could be scary as hell when he wanted to be.

“Nah, maybe record it for me.” Sips accepted the drink with a wry grin. Trott took the chance to insert himself under Sips’ arm, relishing the opportunity to have him all to himself.

 

* * *

“Ross, what the fuck?” Smith struggled, trying to pry Ross’ grip loose. He couldn’t budge his fingers at all. Ross shrugged and hefted his friend over his shoulder. Smith squawked at the indignity and pounded his fist against Ross’ ass.

“You’re going to hurt yourself doing that,” Ross cautioned him as he carried Smith down the hall. He pushed open the door, and dropped Smith unceremoniously on Trott’s enormous bed.

“Well, this is new for you.” Smith rolled over his side, giving Ross a sultry smile.

“You going to take your clothes off or do I have to do it?”

“Mmm, randy today aren’t we?”

Ross raised an eyebrow and bent over the bed to take hold of Smith by the front of his shirt.

“Pretty please?” he asked, brushing his lips over Smith’s cheek. He nuzzled his face into Smith’s hair, breathing in the scent of smoke and the warmth of him. Ross smiled to himself and pressed his lips to Smith’s neck as he heard the belt come undone.

Ross pinned him to the bed, using his weight to keep Smith on his back and his mouth distract him. It mostly worked and they only scuffled a bit as Ross cuffed him to the bed.

“This is payback, Smith, for those fucking lollipops.”

“Seriously? That was forever ago!” Smith sighed and twisted his wrist against the rubber lining the cuff. “These are actually pretty comfortable.”

“I hope so, you’re going to be here for awhile.”

“What do you have planned for me then?” Smith grinned and didn’t fight too hard as Ross took hold of his other arm.

“Not my plans,” Ross answered as he checked the padlocks on the steel cuffs. He took the chance to wrap himself around Smith for a moment, until he heard Smith wheeze a little from his weight. Ross reluctantly rolled off him.

“Whose plans?” Smith coughed with suspicion.

“Sorry,” Ross said sincerely.

“Ross.”

“Sorry,” he repeated, kissing Smith again. He bit Smith’s lip and decided he would just stay here until Trott arrived. It would keep Smith from fretting or fighting too much. Trott did tell him to keep Smith occupied. With a leg hooked over Smith’s, Ross kissed him lazily and enjoyed the way Smith made little needy sounds at his slow pace.

Ross rolled to sit on the edge of the bed when Trott pushed open the door.

“We need to have a conversation,” Trott said in a deceptively mild tone. He didn’t even look at Smith as he spoke, instead hugging Ross to him for a moment. He pulled Ross’ hoodie off and toss it onto a nearby chair. Ross rested his head against Trott for a moment.

“Is this really necessary?” Smith rattled the chain of his cuffs against the headboard.

“You make these things necessary Smith, much to my eternal aggravation.”

“Please tell me this is just the annoying prelude to some really kinky sex,” Smith complained.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Trott laughed. He stroked Ross’ face and looked at him seriously. “You sure you want to stay for this?”

Ross nodded. Trott gestured for him to undress and Ross complied, dropping his clothes to the floor. Smith watched, a line between his brows. Trott stood there, barefoot and still wearing the clothes he usually wore to the shop.

In the pocket of Smith’s jacket, Trott found his keys. They were heavy in his hand and Smith jerked up on the bed, the chain clanging in the bars of the headboard.

“Get your hands off those,” he snapped, all the humor drained from his voice.

“You know, I think I’m going to hang onto them for awhile. Just until you understand things.” Trott rolled them from hand to hand as he turned away.

Smith stared at him, caught off guard. They had never crossed this line before with each other, living with a tacit understanding that some things just weren’t done to each other.

“What are you talking about, Trott? What’s worth doing this shit to one of your mates?”

“Promises, Smith, these promises you can’t seem to keep straight.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Smith heaved a sigh. “Be more fucking cryptic why don’t you?”

“You promised to serve your king,” Trott said, pointing at Smith. “And look at where we are now. He’s furious, you know.”

“About what?”

“Maybe you killing one of the guys on his bowling team?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Smith. Really. Sips is very disappointed in you.” Trott slipped Smith’s keys into his pocket. He rolled the sleeves of his plain button down shirt up to his elbows. Smith focused on his keys, tracking the faint sounds of them shifting in Trott’s pocket and the weight of them pulling at the fabric of his trousers.

“He’s got like ten people on that bowling team, what does one matter?”

“You may have cost him a place in regionals. How are you going to fix that, Smith?”

“Goddamnit. Why do we care about his human friends?”

“Smith, you’re the one who stuck that crown on his head,” Trott reminded him. “And you were the one who refused to take it off or take a knife to him. This is entirely on you, our new king everlasting.”

“Fuck,” hissed Smith. His stomach ached with the sick sense of something wrong he needed to fix. The truth of Trott’s words ached unpleasantly. Smith didn’t feel guilty so much as he just wanted to fix things so this feeling would stop. He wanted to see Sips, talk to him. The chain rattled in the bars of the headboard as he jerked his arms against the restraints.

“You’d better start caring.” Trott climbed onto the bed and straddled Smith, looking down at him. “Because you are out of control in a way that isn’t good for any of us, Smith.”

“Since when do you fucking care who I do or where?” Smith laughed, an ugly sound. “I don’t fucking tell you not to cut throats or put those knives of yours into people, don’t fucking tell me what to do, you prick.”

Trott slapped him, the sound of his hand striking Smith’s face startlingly loud.

“Don’t you ever talk to me like that,” Trott said, his voice calm. Frozen in complete shock, Smith stared open mouthed at him. For a few breaths, his jaw worked as he tried to find his voice again. Smith’s eyes darkened with fury.

"Trott you _fucking_ bastard, you better -” Trott slapped him again. Smith tried to pull himself up, fighting the restraints.

“Trott, stop it, you -” The sting of the next slap cut Smith off mid-sentence and he closed his eyes to collect himself. He drew in a deep breath and spoke again, his voice lower and thick with menace.

“I swear, I’m going to -” Jerking his head back from the slap, Smith snapped his teeth at Trott’s hand. Trott smacked him again for it.

“Enough! Fuck y-” Smith’s voice turned into an angry shout as another slap rocked his head to the side. Ross’ eyes widened and he shook his head at Smith, mouthing the words “stop” from over Trott’s shoulder.

“Trott, _please_ ," Smith hissed, eyes angry. He tensed but Trott’s hand didn’t come up this time. If he could just stop the hitting, maybe there was a way to talk himself out of this situation.

"You know what to do," said Trott simply. "So do it."

"Pretty _fucking_ please, with - _Trott god dammit!"_ Smith’s voice rose. The slaps were starting to add up into genuine pain. He bucked and fought to get out from under Trott. Ross grabbed his legs, pinning him to the bed before he could shake Trott loose.

Smith opened his mouth again and watched Trott’s hand come up in readiness. He subsided, letting himself fall back against the bed. Eyes glittering with anger and disbelief and the beginnings of fear, he turned his head to look at Ross.

“Ross?” he asked in a quiet voice, simmering with fury and no small amount of confusion. The handprint on his face burned.

“Please,” Ross whispered, averting his eyes. “Please listen. _Please be good._ Just-”

“Hush,” Trott said and Ross stopped mid-sentence. He surreptitiously squeezed Smith’s leg instead, trying to reassure him without words.

"There's one way out of this," said Trott softly, holding Smith's throat until he made eye contact. "As long as it takes. Doesn't have to be the hard way, Smith."

"Trott, don't do this," said Smith. "Come on, mate."

"I'll do what I like, sunshine. And you'll do what I like as well." The certainty in Trott’s voice made him shiver.

Smith jerked his arms, feeling the cuffs mold themselves tighter around his wrists. Eyes squeezed shut to deny Trott the satisfaction of seeing his reactions, he clenched his jaw.

“Oh, not scared to look now, are we?” Trott gave him a lighter slap, hardly anything. But the resulting flinch made it clear how shaken Smith was already. Trott knelt astride his waist, the fabric of his trousers stretched tight over his thighs, waiting for him to open his eyes.

"What do you want, Trott?" Smith snarled. Trott raised an eyebrow. He edited out the fuck, at least, that was progress and Trott could appreciate some progress.

"I want you to listen to me, Smith," said Trott.

"I'm all ears, mate," growled Smith. He opened his eyes, glaring at Trott. He kept up the bravado but Trott could feel that he was shaken by what was happening. Smith’s body was rigid with tension and his eyes moved rapidly around the room.

Trott leaned forward, hammering eye contact into him like a nail. Smith shifted uneasily beneath him, trying to escape more than fight now. He tried to pull back but there was nowhere to go. Trott could feel him digging into the mattress. Smith’s shoulders pulled up towards his ears and he gripped the headboard, bringing his elbows in tight against his head.

“Calm down, Smith, I’ve got you.” He soothed Smith, his hands gentle on Smith’s bare skin. “It’s going to be alright.” Smith tried to hold himself stiff and reject the comfort, but it was Trott. It was so familiar and warm, the way he ran his hands up Smith’s neck and rubbed his fingers against the stubble on Smith’s jaw. He let Trott push his arms away from his face, and stopped anticipating another slap.

“Just get on with whatever you’re going to do.” It came out less defiant and more subdued than he intended. Smith realized there was not going to be an easy way out this time. Trott had his keys, he had angered his king and he couldn’t get out of the situation unscathed.

Ross knelt behind Trott on the bed, between Smith’s legs. He wanted so terribly to reach out and comfort him. He tried to will Smith to relax, to do what he needed to do.

"There we go," said Trott when Smith looked up at him uncertainly, no longer struggling. "Much better. Let's not start that again, alright?"

Smith nodded.

“Ross never talks back, does he?”

“Did you slap it out of him too?” asked Smith bitterly.

Trott tilted his head to the side and stared at Smith.

“Sorry,” Smith mumbled.

"You're forgiven," Trott said. "But there's only so much forgiving I'm prepared to do, Smith. Ounce of prevention saves a pound of fucking bullshit I have to clean up."

Ross’ tail swept nervously behind him. None of this was directed at him, but Trott’s intensity made him anxious even so. He wanted Smith to accept whatever point it was that Trott wanted to make, just so it would end. He tried surreptitiously to squeeze Smith’s leg again, but Smith jumped at the touch. Trott looked over his shoulder and Ross raised his hands apologetically.

“Sorry. I won’t- sorry.”

“You said you could do what I needed you to do,” Trott said quietly and Ross winced at the disappointment in his voice. “I need you to behave.”

“I will,” Ross assured him, making a plaintive gesture.

“Be good for me, Ross.” Trott twisted and reached back to put a hand on Ross’ head. Smith watched them, chewing on his lower lip. Ross shuddered under Trott’s hand, leaning into the touch.

“That’s my good boy.” Trott turned back around to look at Smith.

“I’m not Ross,” Smith said pointedly. “You can’t expect me to be like that.”

“I already have all the Ross I want,” Trott replied. “What I want right now is your cooperation.”

“Fine, let’s cooperate.” Smith gritted his teeth and tried to smile.

“I was going to put a cock ring on you, or maybe stick one of those lollipops in your mouth,” Trott said in his conversational tone. “But since I’m the one holding your keys now, I think maybe it is just easier to tell you what to do.”

Smith pressed his lips tightly together, holding back whatever he wanted to say.  Trott reached into his pocket and jingled the keys for effect, just to watch Smith clench his jaw and make an angry sound. With a smirk, Trott pulled them out and drew spirals around Smith’s nipples with a key. Smith’s arms jerked involuntarily, and the cuffs held him back as he fought to free his hands.

“No finishing until I tell you, understand?” Trott patted his cheek. Smith stared back at him with an expression so quietly mutinous that Ross expected Trott to slap him again for it. But Trott just smiled and slid to Smith’s side, one hand resting on his stomach. With resignation Smith nodded.

“Ross.” Trott snapped his fingers. “Come make Smith feel better about his current position.”

Ross crawled up the bed and held himself over Smith, kissing his way up Smith’s throat. He wanted to say something reassuring but he was hyper aware of Trott watching them. He kissed Smith hard on the mouth instead and only stopped when he felt Trott’s hand on his shoulder. Ross hoped the quick glance they shared was enough. Smith still looked confused and frustrated, his hands clenching into fists. With a little smirk, Trott pushed Ross down between Smith’s legs. Ross licked Smith’s cock, enjoying the groan he provoked. He flicked his eyes up at Trott as he put his lips around the head of Smith’s cock.

Smith watched Trott roll his keys from hand to hand. He slipped them back into his pocket and ran his fingers over Smith’s stomach. Smith tried to hope the worst of it was past, that Trott was just going to be a dick about things a little longer to make his point. A little gasp escaped his lips as Ross sucked harder on his cock. Smith averted his eyes from Trott’s sardonic gaze and focused on Ross instead. Even if the situation was fucked up, he could enjoy Ross’ tongue sliding up the underside of his cock and his fingers stroking the tops his thighs.

"There we go, Smith," Trott said, watching Smith pant and push into Ross' mouth. "Could have been here sooner if you hadn't thrown a fit."

Ross spread one hand wide over Smith’s stomach, pressing down just enough to make Smith push back against him with needy little sounds.

"Ross, stop." Trott nudged Ross, and his eyes flickered open. He pulled away, mouth wet and licked his lips. Smith’s hips jerked upward.

"What?" Smith groaned. "Trott, no."

"Trott what?" said Trott. He flicked his hair out of his eyes. Teasing Smith was the fastest way to get him to lose control, and Trott wanted him much more open to suggestion.

"Trott, please," said Smith. His mouth twisted, the words resentful.

“You have to learn to listen, Smith,” Trott chided.

Trott handed Ross a packet of lube from the stack of things piled up on the bedside table. While he mouthed Smith’s cock, Ross slicked his fingers up and pushed them one by one inside of Smith. At three, Trott pulled him back. Smith whined in the back of his throat, pushing his legs wider on the bed.

“Don’t stop,” Smith pleaded. “Please.” That seemed to be the magic word in this situation and Smith hoped if he just said it enough everything would shake out back to normal.

“That’s a start,” Trott said under his breath. He pushed one of Smith’s knees back and held it.

“Please!”

“Use your tongue this time, Ross.” Trott dug his nails into Smith’s leg.

Ross pushed on the other leg, forcing Smith’s hips up off the bed. He licked from Smith’s cock down to his ass. Smith loudly exhaled, trying not to shout as Ross’ tongue slid over the tense muscle. Before he could even get used to it, Trott made it stop.

“ _Goddamn it_ _,_ stop tor-” The slap to the underside of his arm shocked him into silence. It hurt far more than he would have expected it to there.

“What did I tell you, Smith?” Trott looked at him coolly. “I told you to listen to me.” He reached back into his pocket for the keys.

“Do a better job of it, Smith, or this is going to get a lot more painful.”

Smith uttered a little sound, all frustrated desire and confusion. He felt a sharp, painful tugging sensation in his throat and he dug his nails into his palms. The magic burned in his mouth, down his throat and compelled his obedience in a way that horrified Smith. The knowledge that he was completely out of control sank cold fingers into his mind. Something in his expression made Trott chuckle and he let go of the keys.

“Come on sunshine, let’s try that again. Ross.” Between his legs, Ross pushed his slick fingers back inside Smith and spread them wide. He alternated using his fingers and his tongue on Smith’s cock and ass, working him into a frenzy. Each time he stopped just as Smith could feel himself right at the edge.

Trott’s fingers traced over Smith’s parted lips. For a moment Smith considered biting down. He stopped himself though, knowing it would only provoke Trott to further punishments. Trott ran the tip of his index finger over Smith’s teeth, and pushed a couple of fingers into his mouth. With a little whine, Smith sucked on them and hoped Trott would reward him instead. He could only game the magic compelling him so far. Not being able to control the situation was bad enough but not being able to control his own orgasm made him feel frantic. If he could just get Trott to pet him more, to touch him more, he could get closer.

Losing himself in the sex was the only escape Smith could make. Between his legs, Ross worked his fingers in deep. Every time he spread them, Smith tossed his head and whimpered. Trott’s nailed scratched down his chest, making the muscles in his stomach jump. Ross rubbed his face against Smith’s thigh. But every time, Trott stopped him, talking to him and pulling him back out of the blissful state where he could just not listen to anything other than his own breathing and the blood pounding in his head. Smith grew more and more frustrated, unable to just let himself go. He didn’t want to be angry at Ross, and he couldn’t be angry with Trott. The situation was too unexpected and Smith didn’t know where the lines between them were any more. Smith was angry and frustrated with himself for not knowing what he could get away with now and not wanting to risk it.

“Are you listening?” Trott kept asking him, his voice deep and dark in his ear. Smith couldn’t think straight anymore, the further they went. He tried to focus on Trott’s voice, speaking to him so reasonably about what he wanted Smith to do.

“Not asking for much, Smith,” murmured Trott. “I just want you not to cause me more trouble than I need. That’s not so hard, is it?” Trott’s hand stroked his throat, sometimes gripping him. Smith moaned when Trott’s fingers dug into the soft places under his jaw.

“No more reckless killing,” Trott continued. “You get my permission first.”

Smith whined in the back of his throat. Ross stopped at Trott’s touch on his head, ghosting his fingers over Smith’s balls as he pulled back.

“You can do that for me, can’t you?” Trott choked Smith a little harder, leaning in close to kiss him. His teeth were sharp and Smith tasted blood when Trott bit his lip.

“You want these keys back, you’re going to do what I say.”  

Under Trott’s hands, Smith arched his back and strained towards him. Arousal clouded his thoughts and all he could concentrate on was the sensation of Trott’s lips on his own. When Trott broke away, Smith whimpered and lifted his head to try to follow.

Ross looked back and forth between them, licking his lips, trying to be still. Trying to keep his attention on Trott when he just wanted to stare at Smith because he'd never ever seen him like this. He wanted to touch himself, or press himself up against one of the others. Trott hadn’t said if he could though and he didn’t want to interrupt to ask. Something in him thrilled to endure it, knowing Trott would be pleased with him. As if he could hear Ross thinking, Trott reached out and guided Ross’ head back down between Smith’s legs.  

Trott watched Smith, with a smile that didn’t seem quite friendly, and he put one hand very gently on Smith's face, right over the red mark from all those blows. With the other he unfastened his trousers and stroked himself.

"Come on Smith, let me hear it."

"Please, Trott. Please." Smith's breaths were unsteady, shuddering and hitching as Ross ate him out.

"Please what?" Trott kept him from hiding his face against his arm, pulling Smith by the hair so he was looking up instead.

"I don't know. Just, just please," said Smith, his voice ragged. " _Please ._ Whatever you want, please, just."

His voice pitched unexpectedly and he felt himself starting to shake, little muscle tremors turning into full blown trembling. He wanted to come, but if he even tried to just let himself go he felt that sharp tugging sensation in his throat that jerked him right back down. He couldn’t disobey even if he wanted to now, not with Trott holding all the keys in his pocket.

When Trott pulled Ross back, he moaned in a mix of relief and agony. He was not prepared for the vibrator Trott flicked on in his place. Smith’s scream was so loud Ross nearly ducked his head. Trott kept the vibrator on him, powered up to the highest setting as he dragged it over Smith’s cock and between his legs. He pressed it up against Smith’s balls, enjoying the hoarse cries that spilled out of Smith.

“This is what you wanted, Smith,” Trott said, just loud enough to be heard over all the other noise. Smith couldn’t hold still, shaking all over as he tried to get away.

It wasn’t even pleasure, more a matter of making himself last through it to the inevitable end. Smith couldn’t stop himself from tensing and struggling. Both Ross and Trott had to hold him down as he flailed. He choked, trying to suck in air between his screams.

Trott took the vibrator away and Smith gulped a deep breath. Trott put it right back. This time Ross did hunch his shoulders up, trying to block the sound of Smith’s voice. Trott held him in an endless moment of torture before he pulled the vibrator away.

“Hold still,” Trott soothed. “You want it to end, don’t you? You just want it to be over so you can come? I’ll give it to you, Smith, you just have to listen to me.” He teased Smith with the vibrator again. Smith’s arms shook, his legs tense and heels digging into the bed as he tried and failed to stay still. He was dizzy, almost hyperventilating. Trott turned the vibrator off and tossed it aside to yank his trousers and boxers down his thighs.

The touch of Trott’s hand between his legs made him jump. Smith was wet, tender and open. Any new sensation was unbearable now. Still dizzy, he couldn’t concentrate enough to fight or struggle away.

 _“Trott, please,”_ he whimpered. Trott crawled over him, settling himself between Smith’s legs. Ross shifted to the Smith’s side so he could watch the both of them.

“Alright, you can have it.” As Trott pushed his cock in, Smith tossed his head and made small overwhelmed sounds. Tears ran down the sides of his face, soaking into the hair at his temples. It was so close to the command he wanted, but not quite enough. Smith tried and the magic binding him cut into him just enough to stop his orgasm.

“It’s too much, too much, please just-” His voice cracked as he teetered on the edge. Trott tightened his hand in Smith’s hair to hold him still as he cried and shook with every thrust.

“Look at me, Smith.” Trott pulled his hair harder. Smith’s blinked, his irises thin rings around wide pupils. Patiently Trott waited for him to focus.

“What have we learned, Smith?” asked Trott as he slowly and relentlessly fucked him.  “Have you learned your lesson or do we need to stop and repeat it?”

“Don’t… don’t kill people?” Smith tried. Another broken off little whine as Trott pushed in again.

“Don’t kill people without my permission,” Trott amended, his voice lower and harsher. “Don’t take things that belong to your king. What else?”

Ross’ fingers clawed at the sheets, wanting to answer for Smith, who was gasping and sobbing between his words. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Smith so violently undone in Trott’s hands.

“Don’t make messes for you.” Smith tried to close his eyes but Trott tugged his hair to keep his focus. “Always listen to you. Please oh god please, I’ll listen just please...”

“Come for me, Smith.” Trott spoke directly into his ear, lips brushing his skin. He sank himself all the way in, pushing his entire weight down on Smith. Beneath him Smith trembled and wept for how good it felt to be given permission, the way it poured into him and how much he hated being out of control. His voice was raw and loud as he cried out. Trott pressed his face to Smith’s cheek, wet with tears. Two more thrusts, making his breath catch as Smith tensed and screamed. Trott climaxed with a groan. He stayed there for a few seconds, holding Smith’s head to his and listening to him breathe.

“Good boy,” Trott whispered, and he revelled in how Smith shuddered at his words.

When Trott finally rolled off Smith and sat up, Ross handed him a shirt. It was probably Smith’s. Trott wiped the sweat and come off himself. Ross sat on the edge of the bed, fingers still kneading the sheets as he stared at Smith. So many things were going through his mind, Ross couldn’t sort them out.

“Come here,” Trott said, pulling Ross close. Trott stroked his chest, hand dipping lower to feel the smooth glass patterning Ross’ stomach down to his cock.

“You’re so good for me,” Trott murmured. “You did well.” Delighted by the praise and Trott’s touch, Ross moaned as quietly as he could. Trott’s touch settled him a little and Ross rubbed his face into Trott’s hair.

“Lay back here, next to Smith.” Ross obeyed and Trott spared a moment to look at them both side by side. Smith was still gasping and shaking a little, and Ross fairly trembled with suppressed longing. He nestled himself close in to Smith, making a faint unintelligible sound.

“Always so good for me,” Trott said as he moved to sit beside Ross on the edge of the bed. He leaned over, kissing Ross gently on the forehead, the cheek, his lips. Trott traced the lines of Ross’ cock, the ridges and curves and the whorls carved around the base. Ross’ soft little moans made him smile and Trott stopped teasing him.

“I know this is your favorite,” Trott said into his ear. “You don’t have to be quiet anymore.” He twisted round and bent over to take Ross’ cock into his mouth. The choked sound of pleasure and surprise pleased Trott. It took so very little to make Ross come but Trott put the effort into doing the things he knew Ross liked, using his hands and his mouth. He pushed down on Ross’ hip with one hand and dragged his tongue up along his cock in slow strokes. The fizzing burst of magic that accompanied Ross’ shout made his mouth tingle and Trott made a mental note to do this more often.

Ross curled himself closer to Smith on the bed, his thoughts hazy and soft. He could hear Smith hiccuping, and he made a sympathetic noise as he nuzzled into Smith’s side. He felt Trott slide off the bed, heard him moving about pulling up his trousers and dressing.

On the desk shoved under the window, Trott found the keys for the padlocks. He unfastened the cuffs holding Smith to the bed and pulled them off. Smith brought his arms down to his chest with a little cry of pain. Trott watched him for a moment. He felt Smith’s keys in his pocket, heavy and cold against his leg.

Trott didn’t say anything, just patted Ross on the shoulder as he left the room. Ross nodded, understanding without being told.  He half sat up against the headboard and pulled Smith into his arms so his head rested under Ross’ chin. He even curled his tail around Smith to hold him close. For a few seconds, Smith panicked and struggled to get free.

“It’s okay,” Ross soothed. “It’s over.” He brushed his fingers lightly over Smith’s hair and kept holding him. He knew Smith needed the steadiness of it now.

“You did good, Smith.” Ross cupped the back of his head, listening to Smith’s ragged breathing. He was still a little overwhelmed himself. Smith sagged against Ross and stopped trying to get away.

“You’re going to be okay,” Ross said into Smith’s hair, damp with sweat. “It’s okay, Smith, I’ve got you.” He couldn’t tell how long they stayed there. Eventually he felt Smith’s breathing even out, and the tears on his cheek dried against Ross’ chest. Smith shifted and wrapped his arms around Ross’ waist.

“Ross?” he asked, voice still rough.

“Smith.” He kissed Smith’s head, his hair tangled in knots.

“Did he do this to you?” Smith asked.

“Something like it,” Ross admitted. “But I chose it.”

“Why?”

“Why did I let you burn down my church, Smith?” Ross said in a voice so full of emotion that Smith lifted his head. Their eyes met.

“Because you wanted out?” Smith guessed uncertainly.

“Because you saw me and what I needed.” Ross smiled very slightly, eyes bright with that pale light of his. “Even if you were acting selfishly.”

“And this?” Smith didn’t understand, not really. “Why?” He leaned his head back against Ross, exhausted.

“It’s something else I need. Just how I am. Trott saw, and gave me the thing I couldn’t do for myself. Just like you.” Ross tilted Smith’s head up and kissed him as lovingly as he could. It was the closest he’d come to an outright declaration and he hoped Smith understood at least that it meant something to him.  

They stayed curled up together for several more minutes. Ross shifted his tail, keeping it round Smith’s waist. It was an easy silence, broken only by the sound of Smith’s feet sliding against the sheets when he fidgeted. Resting his chin on Smith’s head, Ross patted him gently.

“Everything aches,” Smith complained into Ross’ neck, half asleep and a little fretful still.

“Come on, you’ll probably want a shower.”

“That’s so far away.”

“You want me to carry you?” Ross asked, only half teasing.

“No,” Smith sighed. He winced as he stretched his legs.

“No one will see if we use the bath in here.” Ross unwrapped his tail from Smith and slipped an arm under his legs. Ignoring Smith’s half hearted protests, he carried him into the en suite bathroom. Rarely used, it still boasted plenty of towels and bath products. Ross wondered if Trott snuck in here to lay in the bath. It seemed like something he might do, knowing Trott’s reluctance to admit his cravings to be in the water. He let Smith down, waiting until he could stand on his own before turning on the faucet.

Smith stood with his face directly under the spray. Silently Ross scrubbed his shoulders. He put one hand on Smith’s chest and waited for some sign to keep going. Smith stepped back until he was flush against Ross. He was careful with his hands, gentle as possible. Smith took the cloth and put it over his face, rubbing away the last traces from his skin. Ross leaned against the tiled wall, savoring the heat of the shower and Smith beside him.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Smith said at last. He turned around to look at Ross. His eyes were dark, a deep greenish blue and he was quieter than usual. It made something in Ross ache a little to see him like this. He reached up to brush the wet hair out of his face.

“It takes a lot out of you.” Ross shut off the water.

Smith nodded. He was gradually losing more and more momentum, not even making a comment when Ross toweled him off. He led Smith back to the bedroom they usually shared with the other two, the much simpler bed crowded with blankets and pillows. Ross and Smith buried themselves in the blankets, Ross still radiantly warm. Smith fell asleep in moments, draped over him. Ross stroked his back for a long time, drifting pleasantly.

 

* * *

When he got up from the bed, Ross’ hand caught his and squeezed. On the other side of Ross, Trott was tucked into a blanket with only his hair visible. There was no sign of Sips. From the slant of light, Smith guessed it was midday.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered, and kissed Ross’ forehead. He blinked very slowly in response and Smith wondered if Ross ever did actually sleep. All this time, and he still wasn’t entirely sure.

In fresh clothes, Smith silently wandered the condo looking for Sips. He could feel that twisting sensation in his gut, the knowledge that he’d fucked up and he needed to fix it. There was also the shivery, unpleasant knowledge that Trott was still holding his keys somewhere. Without them he felt vulnerable. Smith wanted them back, badly. He wondered what Trott would make him do for them.

Sips was sitting at the kitchen table in someone’s worn blue hoodie and a pair of old jeans, drinking a glass of juice and reading something on actual paper. Smith hesitated in the doorway until he looked up.

“Smiffy,” Sips acknowledged and the coolness of his voice made Smith’s eyes sting. He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to cry twice in the span of a day. Feeling so unsteady was not something he enjoyed in the slightest.

“Can we talk?” Smith asked, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. It was probably Ross’, feeling a little too big in the shoulders and loose.

“Sure.” With a dismissive shrug, Sips picked up his juice and turned his gaze back to the newsletter on the table. He looks tired, cap askew on his head and his shirt rumpled as if he slept in it. Smith wondered if Sips had slept in the bed with them, or on the sofa in the living room.

Taking the chair closest to him, Smith fidgeted for a moment as he tried to decide how to start. Abruptly he bent himself in half and put his head on Sips’ leg. Sips looked down at him with some consternation.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled in a rush. “I didn’t mean- I just thought it was- look I’m sorry, I’ll fix it somehow - Sips please don’t be mad at me, Trott already-” he broke off to take a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. About the guy.”

The seconds of silence felt thick and heavy, and Smith held his breath. Sips’ hand dropped heavily on the back of his neck and Smith almost wept with relief. He slid out of the chair so he was kneeling beside Sips, face pressed into his thigh. His jeans were worn smooth, the denim fraying in places.

“Smiffy, you are one crazy son of a bitch sometimes. You murderfucked one of my best bowlers.”

“I’m sorry,” Smith said in a small voice. “I didn’t realize he belonged to you.”

“Well, he didn’t really belong to me so much as the team. But I am the team captain though.... Fuck.” Sips leaned back in his chair and patted Smith. “Don’t ever kill someone on my bowling team again, Smith, I mean it. That was not nice.”

“Never,” Smith agreed. The weight of the promise settled in him, and Smith marvelled at how easy it was. Dangerously easy. He knew he would promise Sips anything he asked.

“I got to call the rest of the guys today,” Sips sighed. “What a mess. We have a match tomorrow night, I don’t know if anyone’s going to want to play.”

“What can I do?” Smith asked. The cold dread had eased and now all he wanted was do something, anything, to make Sips happier.

“I don’t know, Smiffy.” Sips picked up his glass and took a long drink. He sounded less disappointed and more resigned to this new life without one of his best teammates.

“What if I got rid of your competition?” Smith suggested, raising his head. He didn’t sit all the way up, just leaned on his elbows on Sips’ lap. “I could kill some of the other players. Even the field up a bit.”

“Always murder with you, isn’t it?” Sips chuckled. He rubbed Smith’s shoulder and looked at him rather thoughtfully. “Not the other players. It’s no fun without them.”

“What then?”

“The league judge,” Sips said with a chilly grin. “I fucking hate that guy.”

 

 

* * *

 

The weeks building up to the midwinter solstice were busy ones. Here it was finally, the darkest time of the year all lit up with colorful lights and festive decorations. Ross enjoyed this time of year. It was always the most beautiful time in the church, he remembered. The time when the church was most full of people, their voices rising up to the roof in songs. It was the only thing he ever missed now from his life before.

Ross persuaded Will by text message to come meet him in the park near his home. He knew it would be downright suicidal to try this at the home of Xephos, even if he seemed to grudgingly tolerate Ross’ visits. Maybe he should send him some kind of note, Ross mused as Will walked up to the gigantic oak tree. Holding to the enormous branch with his tail, Ross leaned down to lift Will up beside him.

“Will,” Ross sighed. He settled back and let Will curl up against him.

“You are freezing,” complained Will, touching his hand. “How long have you been out here?”

“A little while.” Ross nuzzled Will’s head, nose cold on Will’s cheek.

The park was quiet and dark this late at night. Colored lights twinkled along the edge of the park, decorating the houses looking out at the park. Freezing, but it hadn’t snowed yet. It felt peaceful. For a moment Ross just enjoyed sitting there, Will half in his lap and bundled into a heavy wool coat.

“The thing between us has never been about debt,” Ross said seriously. “Never.” He stroked his fingers over Will’s shoulder.

“But the thing with the drive we got you…”

“Shit,” Will said in a small voice.

“That wasn’t something you could pay for with a blow job, even if that’s what we traded in.”

“Couldn’t you have said that?” His expression was shadowed, hard to read in the faint light.

“I’m telling you now, because you’ve got to wise up some, Will, or you’re going to get eaten alive.” Ross tried not to sound as vexed as he actually felt by the situation and Will’s distressing lack of forethought.  “Have you even considered how deep you’re in with that bastard in the greenhouse?”

“Uncle Xephos is already on my case about it.” Will huffed, annoyance in his voice.

“Clearly not enough, because you keep going back.”

“You don’t understand,” retorted Will, a little angrier now.

“You’re right, I don’t, because I would never in a thousand years sell myself to him the way you’ve done.”

“That’s not-”

“He tried, you know.”

“Tried what?”

“Tried to buy me,” Ross said, bitterness and anger threading his voice. He hadn’t intended to say that but it just came out. Ross clamped his mouth shut.

“What?” Will asked, sitting up to look at him. “When did this happen?”

Ross sighed. The anger, and the shame, flashed through him as he thought about Kirin’s words in the greenhouse. He regretted saying anything about it and pushed the memory down.

“Will, do you have any idea how far you’re in with him?” Ross asked again, half curious and half sad.

Will looked away, towards the lights at the edge of the park. Ross shook a packet of candy out of his jacket pocket and ate one, chewing thoughtfully. He offered the packet to Will, who pulled out a pair of gummi candies. They chewed in silence for a long moment, and Ross scratched at the tree with his tail.

“I know what I’m doing.” Will sounded defiant.

“You really don’t.”

Ross put his arms around Will, feeling him shiver in the cold. He offered Will another piece of candy.

“We’re going to have to collect on that debt, because there’s something you can do and we need it.” Ross put his chin on Will’s shoulder. The breeze was icy, rustling the branches over their heads. Somewhere in the darkness, a siren rose and faded. The streetlights flickered, soft and yellow.

“What?” asked Will. He bit into the candy, a soft marshmallow that tasted of strawberries.

“Well, basically we need you to come to a party.” Ross shook his head and hoped Will wouldn’t panic.

“Party?” Will said thickly as he chewed. Within a few seconds Will was struggling against Ross’ arms and making muffled sounds. The gag worked surprisingly quickly, filling Will’s mouth with sugar and the barest hint of magic.

“Sorry,” Ross said sincerely. “Really. But you have to trust me that this is the safest thing right now.” Will punched him in the chest, a furious expression on his face. Ross slid out of the tree, holding Will tight.

“Feels like the first time we met, eh?” chuckled Ross. Will made an indignant noise as Ross hefted him over his shoulder and headed towards the car on the other side of the park.

 

* * *

 

“Look what the gargoyle dragged in.” **  
**

“That sounds so stupid,” Ross grumbled as he shut the door. “Have you been waiting there just to say that since I left?”

“Fuck off Ross,” Smith snapped back. Ross rolled his eyes and put his arm companionably around Will’s shoulders. Will looked down at the floor with a sullen expression. Beside him, Ross glanced around and wondered what he would make of their place. It certainly wasn’t any messier than Will’s attic.

“Witty,” said Trott dryly. He unfolded himself from his place on the sofa grinned at Will. “Looks like you found our new King of Misrule for the holiday.”

Will froze. Will knew perfectly well what the king was supposed to be. Ross tried to ease him forward but Will jerked himself backwards, hands coming up defensively.

“No one is killing you,” said Ross reassuringly as he squeezed Will’s shoulder. “Trott can explain.” All during the ride back, he’d tried unsuccessfully to persuade Will that paying off the debt would be easy. “We didn’t kill Sips, right?”

“Yeah, that’s a ringing endorsement considering how many of them we have killed.” Trott threw something at Smith, who yelped in annoyance.

“We just need you to… stand around?” Ross started to explain once again. Will made aggravated angry sounds, the gag muffling all his words into nonsense. His eyes expressed all his anger and sense of betrayal. With a little sigh, Ross pulled him in close. Still fearful, Will tried to fight his way out of Ross’ hold without any success. Ross finally grabbed his hands to try to hold him still.

“Look,” Trott said impatiently as he stood. “We don’t entirely need your cooperation but it will make this less difficult.” He came close enough to take Will’s chin in one hand, fingers gripping tightly when Will tried to tear himself away.

“You do owe us a favor, after all.”

Will moaned, annoyed and resigned. His shoulders slumped. He nodded once, acknowledging the debt. Trott’s grin was sharp, vicious. He stroked Will’s face.

“All you have to do is stand around, and look pretty, sunshine.”  He let go of Will’s face, watching him sink back against the solid form of Ross.

“It won’t be bad, Will. There’s a hell of a party, just for you.” Ross’ voice dropped lower and he leaned in to talk in Will’s ear. “All the attention on you. Whatever you want to do, whatever you like.”

Shivering, Will tried to ignore the way that voice spiked through him. The icy hot thrill in his gut reminded him of being in the car with the Garbage Court the first time. His eyes met Trott’s, and Trott grinned knowingly.

“All you have to do is stand there and smile. It will be fun.” Trott laughed, following the rapid flicker of Will’s eyes. “Being the king does have its rewards, after all.”

“You’ll be with me, the whole time.” Ross kissed the place just under his ear.

Will thought about that ride in the car, the way Trott so easily undressed him and pushed him into Ross’ lap. The eerie way the three of them moved together, the way their voices blended.

He glanced from Trott to Smith, watching him with predatory amusement, and then twisted around to face Ross. Anything he tried to say was muffled, indistinct. Will took the front of Ross’ shirt in his hands and stretched up on toes to kiss Ross. His lips were sugary, and Ross felt the tingle of the candy keeping him quiet on his own lips.

“It’ll be fun,” promised Ross, sliding his hands down to cup Will’s ass and lift him up so his feet dangled just above the floor.  Will snorted and wrapped his arms around Ross’ neck.

 

* * *

“The things I’m going to do,” Trott said in his low voice. He fastened the collar around Ross’ throat and patted his shoulder with approval. Beside him, Smith shuddered. But he didn’t pull away as Trott fastened a collar on him as well. Trott hooked his fingers into the leather and pulled Smith up close.

“Behave for me, or I won’t let you touch him at all.” His voice was low, pitched just for Smith’s ears. Smith bared his teeth, not actually smiling. Trott snapped the leash on with a tight grin and jerked Smith forward a step.

“Ross.” Beside him, Ross stepped forward to be leashed as well. He didn’t really need one for Ross as much as he did for Smith. But Trott rather liked the sight of both of them wearing just the collars and their jeans. It was a good look. He wanted to see it more often.

Immensely pleased with himself, Trott wrapped the leather around his fist. From his spot on the sofa, Will watched in horrified fascination. He’d spent so much time alone with Ross that he had let himself forget that he was a part of something larger and darker. But Trott was bringing that all into painfully clear focus.

Sips stood over Will, looking at him with a dubious expression. Trott flipped the leashes over Smith and Ross’ shoulders.

“Who is this kid and why is he sitting on my sofa?” Sips wondered aloud. He’d waltzed in from bowling practice, curious as to why Trott was stripping the other two down in the living room. Finding Will on the sofa puzzled him though. They didn’t usually bring anyone back here if they were going to murderfuck someone.

“Your sofa?” Smith snarked, one eyebrow raised. Sips shrugged and shot him an annoyed look.

“Yeah, my sofa, Smiffy. Who the hell is this?”

“Will here is going to be our king for the holiday, just temporarily.” Trott gestured at the paper crown sitting on the coffee table, waiting to be placed on Will’s head. They would do that later, with Will a little more docile. Trott thought they should give him a little time to adjust before he was more securely gagged and crowned.

“Good to be king, right?” Trott patted Will on the shoulder, enjoying the way he tried so very hard not to flinch away.

“Do I have to listen to him?” Sips asked, his expression indicating he wasn’t entirely on board with the idea.

“Only if he speaks,” Trott said smugly. Will wrinkled his nose and chomped down on the marshmallow gag.

“Right.” Sips shrugged and headed for the kitchen. “Well, I’m getting a beer. Have fun with that.”

Trott picked Will up off the sofa, ignoring his indignant protest and dropped him into Ross’ arms.

“Well Ross, show us what we’ve been missing.” He settled himself into Sips’ chair, crossed his legs. Will tried to hide his face in Ross’ neck, a little unnerved by the intensity of Trott’s stare. Smith perched on the arm of the chair.

“Nothing they haven’t seen before, right?” Ross said softly to Will, holding his chin. “You’ll be fine.” He kissed Will on the lips, tasting the strawberry sugariness of the candy keeping him quiet. Probably wasn’t going to last much longer. Ross supposed Trott had something else in mind for the rest of the weekend. They couldn’t just keep stuffing sweets into him every hour or two for the next day.

“Don’t worry,” Ross whispered in his ear. “I wouldn’t bring you here to hurt you. Trust me.” He bit Will’s earlobe gently, glancing over to where Smith and Trott watched with hungry expressions. Trott twirled his fingers around, and Ross turned Will so he was facing the others. The trick to getting Will’s mind off their audience was just sliding his hands inside Will’s clothes. Ross’ cool fingers moved over Will’s skin, teasing him.  

Ross pulled Will down to his knees. He kissed Will’s neck, bit down on his shoulder as he stroked Will’s cock. The anxious noises Will made changed subtly, into ones of pleasure and need. It was easy then to pull off his clothes piece by piece with his attention diverted. Will hardly seemed to even notice until he was completely naked and Smith whistled appreciatively. The crimson flush in cheeks and chest only made him more attractive.

Ross pushed Will forward, arms stretched behind his back so Ross could hold his wrists in one hand. Snatching a container of lube off the mess of things piled on the coffee table, Ross spared a moment to be amused at how no matter where he was at home there was always lube somewhere close at hand. Will whined at the coolness of Ross’ fingers spreading him open, and he tried to be very gentle. When he replaced his fingers with his cock, Will shivered at the coldness of him sliding inside. Ross warmed quickly though. Will felt like fire around him, all heat and need as Ross moved inside him.

With his other hand gripping Will’s hip, he fucked him slowly on his knees. Will’s head dropped forward and Trott made a little noise of disappointment. He slid out of the chair and stood almost directly in front of them, winding his fingers into Will’s bright blond hair. Trott tugged Will’s head up, watching his face avidly. Smith pressed up against Trott’s back, watching over his shoulder and kneading his fingers into Trott’s sides. Ross drank in their rapt expressions and wished Will wasn’t gagged so they could hear how delightfully loud he could get.

Will blinked, slowly and fought the urge to close his eyes. Trott’s fingers were tight in his hair, pulling a little painfully. He whimpered into the gag, sweetness dripping down his throat. Trying to push his hips into Ross, he wanted to beg for him to go faster. The words were muffled. But Trott, standing over him, grinned and tugged his head up higher.

“Oh sunshine, we will. Don’t you worry.”

Smith made his own little sound, biting down on Trott’s shoulder. He wanted to reach his own hand out for Will. But he knew Trott would just slap it down and he so desperately wanted the chance this time to fuck Kirin’s pet sorcerer. He was still just a little bitter about being left out the last time around. So he tried to restrain himself, waiting for his opportunity. His hands slid down Trott’s sides to his hips.

“Make him come for us, Ross.” Trott shifted back against Smith, putting his other hand on top of one of Smith’s. He guided it to his zipper.

“Ross,” Smith echoed. “Come on mate, do him.” He opened Trott’s jeans and stroked his quickly stiffening cock with one hand.

Ross tightened his grip on Will’s wrists, hoping he could keep him upright. He licked his lips, watching Smith grind against Trott with a rapt expression.

Will felt the gag dissolving slowly in his mouth, leaving a sugary scum behind. He gasped and moaned, the sound growing louder as his tongue was freed.

Trott reached back and pushed Smith down in front of Will. Smith grabbed his head with both hands. Will’s moans were muffled under Smith’s mouth. Trott watched them, Smith’s leash wrapped around one hand. He tugged on it and watched in delight as Smith reluctantly tore himself away. He was looking forward to letting Smith fuck Will later, so long as his hand remained tight on that leash.

On the coffee table a bit gag with black leather straps rested on a pile of magazines, another thing Trott brought home from the store one day and forgot about until he needed it. Trott pulled Will’s head up, and deftly pushed the bit into his open mouth. He buckled the gag securely, and snapped the small brass padlock shut. To be absolutely certain, he’d made sure this lock was charmed against interference. Trott didn’t put it past anyone to try to get Will out of his gag. The last thing he wanted was a potentially unruly king making demands, or the possibility of him calling Kirin down too soon.

Smith leaned back again to kiss Will around the gag, enjoying Will’s frustration as he was unable to kiss back. Trott and Ross both watched for a moment, Smith’s hand pressing loosely at the base of Will’s throat. Ross moved a little faster, desire burning through him. He bent forward to kiss Will’s shoulder and traded glances with Smith. His expression was all lust and amusement, and it delighted Ross. Will’s hips jerked forward when Ross slid his hand from his hip to his cock and his rhythm faltered for a moment. It didn’t take much for him to catch it again though and he pushed himself against Ross with a demanding groan. Obligingly, Ross fucked him a little harder and a little faster, feeling Will tense around him as he came. The gratifyingly loud sound he made, even with the gag, tipped Ross into his own orgasm.

Gently, Ross pulled out and settled back on his heels. Will nearly tipped forward as Ross let go of his wrists, only held up by Smith still kneeling in front of him. He licked Will’s mouth and pushed him back into Ross.

“This is going to be so much fun,” said Trott to no one in particular. He slipped the paper crown onto Will’s head, smoothing his hair back. Ross closed his eyes, arms loosely holding Will against his chest.

Opening his eyes, Will shook himself out of his daze. He pointed at the gag, and made a demanding noise. Smith just looked at him, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. Repeating the noise, Will gestured at the lock on the buckle of the gag. This time Smith laughed. He leaned forward, running his hands through Will’s hair and down his neck.

“Sorry, can’t hear you,” Smith smirked at Will’s glare.

 

* * *

The solstice night fell quickly and so the party was already crowded in the early evening. The warehouse was familiar, one they had used before. The smell of smoke and ozone was thick in the air, along with the more human smells of perfume and alcohol and sweat and skin.

Trott rolled his eyes as some of the party goers crowded in around Smith to snap photos with him. Smith messily kissed a couple of them, enjoying himself. Sips laughed and leered with enthusiasm. Just behind them, Ross kept his hand on Will’s shoulder as they pushed their way towards the back where someone put up risers and seating. Trott noticed he kept his tail hooked around Will even when a pair of girls stopped them to beg for a photo. Will shook his head, staring around at the chaos.

“Isn’t this fun?” Trott leaned his arms on Will’s shoulders. “You haven’t been to any of our parties have you - you’re missing out.” Will craned his neck to raise his eyebrows at Trott, the gag preventing whatever sarcastic comment he was so obviously dying to say.

Beside him, Ross snapped a selfie with the girls in their sparkly gold dresses. Tapping away on his phone, Ross grinned at Will’s expression. He was staring at one of the nearest cages, where a pair of dancers were doing something that looked less like dancing and more like sex.

Somewhere out in the seething mass of bodies was a dance floor, spilling out into the general crowd of people milling around between the bars. The air was hazy with smoke from the fog machine and cigarettes, the particles catching the light. The electronic dance music was overlaid with a completely inhuman sounding vocal track, machine screams over a four on the floor beat. Someone had rigged masses of colored LED lights along the walls, pulsing in a pattern not quite connected to the music. A stairway that led up to the missing second floor had been turned into the DJ booth, with quite a view over the crowd and the derelict warehouse. Behind the decks were a tiny blonde girl and a gangly man, sporting prison tattoos and stylized face masks of black and white. They bounced back and forth to the music they spun out for the crowd churning beneath them.

Trott grabbed Smith’s arm before he could lose himself in the crowd. Someone had already shoved a plastic cup and a lit cigarette into his hand.

“No,” Trott said firmly. “I need you here tonight.”

Smith grimaced, pulling a little to see if Trott would let go. He wanted to be out on the floor, feeling all the heat and craziness and wildness loose in the air. When Trott didn’t let go he shook his head and swallowed the rest of the cup full of cheap alcohol and melting ice. He dropped the cup on the floor, crunching it under a foot.

“Trott, dancing?” Smith whined, gesturing out at the floor.

“Come help me keep the king in line,” Trott tempted him. “Not much time left before someone comes looking for him.” Smith took a drag off the cigarette and exhaled upwards into the flickering beams of light. Following Trott, he stuck the cigarette in the hand of a girl he passed. She stared, surprised, and Smith gave her a wink before turning away.

They all looked rather festive, Trott thought, dressed in red and black. He’d insisted that the night was important enough to require some effort and cohesion. Trott liked things to look good and had meddled more than usual with Ross’ organization of the party. Which is why they had quite a nice VIP section this time around, with real chairs and even a couple sofas looted from who knew where. Ross hired some of his usual security goons to keep people out, though quite a few lingered at the edge of the risers and velvet ropes trying to act casual. Some blatantly snapped photos and Trott had to laugh at the absurdity of it. It was good. It felt very good.

Sips handed Ross the baseball bat. The arguments about letting him come along versus locking him up somewhere safe and tight had ended only when Sips announced he was coming and stared everyone down. Trott had just said that it just might be easier if they could keep their eyes on him. Sips didn’t say anything but they all felt his satisfaction.

“I’m going to hang out at the bar, Jimmy’s down there.” He touched Ross on the shoulder, giving him a lopsided smile for the concern in his eyes. “I’ll be fine, don’t look at me like that.”

“Call me if you need anything.” Ross brushed his tail against Sips. Ross trusted Jimmy to look out for Sips. He wasn’t especially bright, but the troll was fiercely loyal and worked security at most every party the Garbage Court hosted.

“You got it.” Sips waved at the others and sauntered off. He wasn’t wearing the crown but something clung to him regardless. Maybe it was the incredibly expensive suit Trott brought home for him, charcoal wool so fine Sips seemed taken aback, and the red silk tie. Ross wondered what exactly they’d done, keeping Sips crowned all year. Even Trott didn’t know what would come of it.

Ross flicked his eyes at one of the figures standing at the edge of their little space. She nodded, and followed Sips through the crowd, a tall witch dressed in black and silver latex. He felt a little more reassured with multiple eyes on their true king. Olivia could probably stall for enough time if someone or something went for Sips and that was all that mattered. The Garbage Court might be small and generally despised, but the ones who could fight were even more tenacious for it.

He swung the bat back and forth to the beat, the same way his tail lashed as he looked around the warehouse. Ross felt on edge, even more than the chaos the midwinter party warranted. Checking his phone, he tracked the mentions of the party and the pictures appearing on Instagram and Twitter. The picture of him with the gold dress girls had Will in the background, half visible behind Ross’ shoulder. Someone else posted a picture of them taken from the bar, moving along the edge of the dance floor. He snorted at the caption under the next picture “someone’s in the hot seat already daaaaamn #winterball #whoisthatguy #kinkyshit.” The picture showed Smith drinking with Will half in his lap. The paper crown made him look younger, even with the gag in his mouth. He retweeted a couple of the better photos and tucked his phone away. If Kirin didn’t know already, he’d know now.

Twenty minutes later, Will’s phone buzzed into life. Ross pulled it out and looked at the screen. He watched the missed call screen. Nervous anticipation flashed through him as he shut it off and walked back to where Trott stood watching the crowd from atop one of the wooden crates stacked haphazardly around the VIP area.

“He’s coming.”

“Good.” Trott stepped closer to Ross so he could reach down and touch his hair. “Stay close.”

Within the hour he spotted Kirin, the crowd giving him a little space as he moved towards them. Trott grinned, all sharp teeth and anger and amusement. He was looking forward to this. He jumped off the box and strutted back to Smith and Will.

“Come enjoy your throne, my lord.” Sitting on the salvaged chairs, Smith pulled Will into his lap. His voice was mocking. Will rolled his eyes and made one of those little muffled sounds of annoyance. But he didn’t struggle as Smith petted him and sucked another livid mark into his neck, stopping just short of drawing blood. He did look uneasy when Smith zip tied his wrists together in front of him.

“It will be alright.” Ross stood just to the side, the bat still casually dangling from one hand. Will looked up at him, and Ross tried to smile around his tension.

“How nice of you to come for the party,” Trott drawled as Kirin approached. “Didn’t think this was really your scene.” Kirin didn’t say anything, looking at Will in his gaudy paper crown and restraints.

“Do you like our king this year?” Smith stroked Will with a little smile. Ross watched, perfectly still and waiting.

Kirin stared at Trott, expression thunderous.

“So do you really want us to sacrifice this one?”  

“What do you think you’re gaining with this?” Kirin asked in a soft voice still audible over the pounding music.

“Just changing things up. Can’t always be doing the same thing after all. Life gets fucking boring.” He pulled a knife from his jacket, the polished bone handle bright between his fingers. Kirin’s eyes tracked the movement and Trott’s smile grew a bit more manic.

“Now you have been telling me that not killing the king was a terrible decision.”

“It was.” Kirin’s voice was deep and cold.

“Well we could go back to that old tradition, kill the king this year…” Trott laughed nastily, tapping the knife against his thigh.

“Is that your plan?” Kirin looked at Ross then.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet. Still open to good ideas.” Trott studied the blade in his hand.

“Why is he here?” Kirin asked Ross directly, putting the full weight of his voice in the question. “I thought you looked out for him.”

Ross did his best not to flinch at the words. He could feel the other two watching, listening.

“Will had a debt to pay,” he said, his voice careful and level over the music. “Just collecting what was owed.”

“What debt?”

“Something I helped him find. Something he asked for.” Ross touched Will’s shoulder reassuringly. Will made a dismayed little noise behind his gag.

“Is that true?” Kirin looked down to Will. He frowned more, noting the obvious love bites on his neck and Smith’s hand high up Will’s thigh.

“Would I lie?” Ross shot back angrily. Trott hissed something at him and he half turned, clamping his mouth shut. Will nodded reluctantly at Kirin, eyes darting around.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Trott laughed at Will’s horrified expression.

“Tell me what exactly?” Kirin spared a glance at Trott.

“How he got you that USB drive full of sweet technomancer magic.”

Kirin looked to Will again. Will lowered his head.

“The thing is, that favor was a little more expensive than he bargained for.” Trott spun the knife in his hand. He was warming up this.

“I doubt it was expensive enough to warrant this,” Kirin said finally.

“He owes for blood spilled on his behalf.”

“What?” Kirin snapped in surprise. Will froze, eyes wide. Ross suppressed his desire to sigh or shake his head.

“Had to kill her, to get the drives.” Trott shrugged, as if it were as inconsequential as getting wet in the rain.

“He didn’t need the actual drive,” Kirin said after a moment, his voice threaded with anger.

“Didn’t tell us that, mate, just said he needed something out of the city planning office.”

“Will?” asked Kirin.

Will moaned and dropped his head forward, not looking at anyone.

“Your boy fucked up,” said Smith with relish. “He fucked up pretty bad there, and now we’re collecting on it.”

“You’re supposed to protect him,” Kirin snapped at Ross.

“You don’t own me, or give me orders.” Ross’ voice was glacial. He kept his hand on Will’s shoulder as he spoke. “It’s about time someone showed Will he needs to be more fucking careful because he’s certainly not learning that going into debt with you.”

Kirin’s anger was a palpable thing, filling the air between them. Ross refused to look away. He felt Smith lean back a little into his leg, and the heat of him gave Ross strength. Before Kirin could respond, Trott stepped between them to ruffle Will’s hair.

“There’s always going to be blood. Just a question of how much. And whose, I suppose.”

“I think you should be more concerned about the last question.” Kirin’s tail swept back and forth behind him.

“You want to start something here, mate?” Trott laughed. “Three on one, on our ground? Those are bad odds even for a fae lord.”

Will made a strangled sound, struggling against Smith’s grip. Ross wondered what he was trying to say and was briefly glad for Trott’s plan to keep him silenced the entire time. No doubt it would just make things worse. He was hoping Will learned something from this. Ross leaned down to him, praying Kirin’s attention would stay on Trott for the moment.

“Will,” he hissed in his ear. “Just fucking shut up, you don’t want to get any more in the middle of this than you have to be.” Will’s eyes darted to Ross, upset and angry and heartbreakingly troubled. Ross shooked his head. It made him a little sad. But what was done was done, too late to go back now.

“Trust me,” Ross said in his softest voice. He pressed his lips to Will’s hair and caught Kirin watching him. Ross grinned in the way he learned from Trott, all teeth and no warmth. Out in the party, the DJs cranked up something new and dark. The building fairly trembled as the crowd took to their feet.

“He belongs to me,” said Kirin and his voice carried all the gravity of his position and power. “My claim supersedes yours.”

“Not here it doesn’t,” Trott shot back, almost bouncing on his toes. “Not when he’s our midwinter king, that is older than even you.” Behind him, Will tried to fight his way up out of Smith’s arms without any success.

Ross could taste the honey sweet magic in the air, at odds with their own. He tightened his grip on the bat, sweeping his gaze around the room. Surely Kirin didn’t walk in here on his own. He worried suddenly about Sips, even with his people looking after him. Ross wanted this over and done.

Trott shouldered him out of the way and took Will’s hair in one hand. Yanking his head back, he pointed at Kirin with the knife. Smith held Will tightly to keep him still.

“I have every right to sacrifice him for the midwinter, and you know it. He’s wearing the crown. All the right things were said.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You really want to find out?” Trott flipped the knife in his hand. Ross stepped carefully around him, trying to watch everyone at once. “What you should be asking is what I want.”

“I don’t bargain with the likes of you.”

“Not even for your pet sorcerer?”Smith grinned.

The tension hung thick between them. Out on the dance floor, blue and white lights strobed violently over the crowd. Ross could hear someone screaming distantly. The phone in his pocket was silent.

“I’ll give him back to you, but it is going to cost.”

Kirin’s expression smoothed into blankness than Ross found more disturbing than his anger.

“What do you want for his debt?”

“Just a tiny bit of blood, to take that crown off his head.”

“And the rest of it?”

“His life means you leave us our King, and our way of doing things for the city.”

“This is a perversion.”

“I didn’t crawl out of the fucking water just to keep doing things the same old way,” Trott snarled. “The world changes. You know that.”

Kirin stared for long moments, long enough that the song bled over into something new. Ross’ eyes drifted to the crowd and he caught sight of Jimmy and Olivia heading towards them, Sips between them. Certainty settled in him, frozen in his chest.

“Trott,” he said in a quiet, urgent voice.

“Go,” Trott answered, his eyes never leaving Kirin.

Ross vaulted the ropes and down the risers. He slammed through the crowd towards Sips, paying no attention to anyone he knocked down. Jimmy shouted something he couldn’t hear as he got closer but he didn’t need any explanation when Olivia pointed something that blazed with light at the man closest to her. He crumpled and Ross could see the blood on Sips’ face.

Silently, Ross brought up the bat to swing at the next person who tried to get between him and Sips. The crack wasn’t audible over the obliterating crash of the music but Ross felt it as the bat connected with a skull. With a cold and determined rage, Ross annihilated the slender woman who leaped towards them. The second swing smashed bone and she dropped to the ground, head at an unnatural angle and blood seeping into the concrete. Keeping Sips between Jimmy and himself, Ross cleared some space with a wide swing. The ordinary people at the party were fast getting out the way, falling over themselves to get out of the fight even as the DJs kept up the beat and the majority of the crowd continued to dance unaware of the mayhem on the sidelines.  

“Risers, go!” Ross shouted in Olivia’s ear. He spared one quick glance at Sips who made a confused and irritated face before Jimmy hauled him towards the VIP section. Ross turned back to see another pair of Kirin’s court approaching. These were not human, not with those teeth and hands but they would be wearing something to avoid attracting attention. Ross cursed and wondered who was working the door that let them slip in without warning him. He hefted the bat and stepped forward, murder in his expression. They split, trying to flank him. But clearly they didn’t factor in the tail. The one who tried to jump him from behind screamed, a shockingly loud sound that blended into the synthpop swell of the music as Ross slapped it to the ground. The other one danced back from the swings of the bat, feinting and trying to find a way into his sides. Ross snarled as one clawed hand touched his face, ripping a burning line into his cheek.

He needed to end this quickly, not knowing how many more were in the crowd. Ross turned on the one behind him, using the barbed tip of his tail to stab it in the shoulder. Its hands closed on his tail, slipping on the glass as it tried to pull itself free. The eerie wail it made cut off when Ross smashed the bat into its face and yanked his tail free. The figure crumpled and Ross brought the bat down on its head with a sickening thud. His boots crunched over fragments of bone and flesh.

The other one crashed into him, claws out, and Ross stumbled. He twisted, trying to let their momentum carry them to the floor. Fingers like blades tore at his arms. It sprang away though before he could crush it in the fall. Ross rolled, and came back up to his feet just in time to meet its next charge. Ducking his head, he punched the bat forward to push it away. Before it had time to right itself, Ross knocked it off its feet. It screeched at him before he beat it down into the concrete, inhuman blood splashing as he crushed its ribs and then its head.

Ross sucked in a deep breath and looked around. Some of the security crew were pushing party goers away from the mess. One looked at him and gestured towards the bodies. Ross nodded, certain they could clear it up. Someone would make sure none of the people watching thought this was anything other than fucked up people on drugs crashing a party. No one was likely to call the police at least. Ross pivoted and sprinted back towards the VIP section. The crowd melted out of his way.

Several of the trolls lined were now positioned along the ropes, looking like particularly ugly bouncers. Ross breathed a little sigh of relief to find Sips drinking a margarita with Jimmy at his side, leaning on the tiny bar. The blood was gone from his face. Olivia sat beside them on a stool, looking a bit shaken but otherwise alright. She wiped at the blood on her outfit with a handful of napkins and dropped them to the ground.

“I’m going to have to get this dry cleaned, jesus.” Sips swiped at the front of his suit. “When she stuck that guy, he got blood all over me. What an asshole!”

Ross laughed a little helplessly. Sips pushed him away when he tried to hug him however.

“Damn it Ross, you’ve got blood all over you, don’t make this worse!”

“Sorry.”

“What the fuck was that anyway?”

“No idea, but I’m about to find out.” Ross glared in the direction of Kirin and the others.

“I just got this fucking suit,” Sips grumbled.  

“We’ll stay with him,” Olivia said. Ross put his hand on her shoulder, and then Jimmy’s.

“Thank you.” Ross stalked back towards Kirin, wishing he had it in him to take the bat to the fae lord’s head. Rage burned in him, tempting him to take the swing but Ross knew it was a losing move.

“Ross?” Trott asked in a sharp voice. He was still engaged in his standoff with Kirin. Will’s face drained of color when he saw the blood staining Ross, and the jagged scratches to his face. Smith’s eyes darkened, lips pressed together in a bloodless line.

“He’s fine,” Ross said in a tight, angry voice. “They’re dead.” He stared at Kirin, whose expression didn’t change. Not even a flicker of disappointment or regret marred his features. Ross clenched his hand tightly on the bat. Blood dripped from it, staining the floor. It gleamed black in the shifting light.

“Well, guess we’re right back to where we started.” Trott laughed, short and vicious. “You missed.”

“You should have killed him,” Kirin said, still expressionless. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“That-”

“You are an embarrassment to your kind and to the rest of the fae in this city,” Kirin continued, talking right over Trott. “This botched sacrifice has made you a joke.”

“Well too bad, too late, whatever,” Smith snapped. He wrapped one hand around Will’s throat, squeezing. Ross thought about stopping him but didn’t. Will was funny and lovely and sometimes too carelessly certain of things he didn’t know enough about. His friendship was a sweet, undemanding thing for the most part because they never ever confused it with business or the rest of their lives. At least until this. If it came down to it though, he’d sacrifice Will without hesitating. Sips was their king. Ross knew it wouldn’t even be a choice.

“Are you really so determined to keep that human?” asked Kirin, some disbelief in his voice. “I would be doing you a favor to take his life.”

“Try it again.” Ross’ voice was cold, harsher and deeper than normal. Smith watched him, a half smile pulling at his mouth. Taking a few steps forward, Ross lifted the bat to his shoulder. Blood ran over his fingers and left new stains in his shirt.

“Coming in here trying to kill one of ours was a bad idea,” said Trott. His voice grew harder, losing the teasing edge.

“Even if you think you’re winning tonight-” began Kirin.

“Deal or no deal, mate?” Smith snapped. “We can take a little, or we can take all his blood.”

“His life, and you guarantee Sips’ life is sacrosanct in the city from now forward.” Trott pulled Will to his feet. Snatching up his cup, Smith dumped out whatever he’d been drinking, ice and alcohol splattering his shoes. Smith and Ross held him by his shoulders and Trott gripped Will’s hands by the excess length of the zip tie. Dimly over the music, one of the DJs was exhorting the crowd to raise their hands in the air. Snow started to fall inside from high in the upper darkness of the warehouse, sparkling in the strobing lights. It was eerie and beautiful, and the crowd roared its approval. Their energy blended into the magic Trott set to work, rising up like a bonfire around the building.

“No more blood than necessary.” Kirin sounded resigned, voice at odds with the tension radiating from him. The air around him crackled, sparks dancing around his horns. Hands clasped together, Kirin watched Trott with a vicious expression in his eyes.

 _“Agree,”_ Trott demanded.

“Will’s life is spared in exchange for the life of Sips.” Kirin’s mouth twisted as if the words were poisonous and sour. Trott’s smile flashed as he turned the knife. Yanking Will’s arms forward, he slashed fine lines into his forearms. With a panicky yelp, Will tried to pull back and looked to Kirin with a slightly frantic expression. Ross gripped him tightly as he repeated the words along with Smith and Trott, the invocation meant for a death but changed now into something new. Memorizing the words had taken him the better part of the week and they hung heavy in the air. Smith caught the blood in the red plastic cup. For his part, Will closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. He shook, minute tremors in his arms.

They could all feel it, the magic coalescing in the air until it felt as thick as sludge. Trott licked the edge of the knife before he put it away, tasting the almost painful power in Will’s blood. He didn’t know if this gamble would have worked on an ordinary human’s blood but whatever made Will magic was enough to give them the kick over the edge they needed for the ritual. Trott was certain it had worked. Smith lifted the cup to his mouth and Trott watched his throat as he swallowed. Then he held the cup to Ross’ mouth, fingers brushing Ross’ jaw. Finally Smith held the cup up for Trott to finish in a long swallow.

“Another year in the city,” breathed Trott with satisfaction. He unbuckled the gag from Will’s mouth. “Good job sunshine, you’re all done.”

Ross was already wrapping Will’s arms to staunch the seeping blood. Smith cradled the cup in his hands behind them, frowning speculatively at the residue of blood. He would burn it later, he thought. He swiped a finger through it the blood and sucked at it with a speculative look. It stung his lips.

“You assholes,” Will said very quietly. Ross pressed Will’s head to his chest. He snapped the tie around Will’s wrists.

“Told you it would be alright,” he reminded Will.

“Alright?” snorted Will in a strangled voice. “Nothing is alright.”

“You’re free to go,” Trott said cheerfully. “Always a pleasure to have you round.” He playfully slapped Will on the ass.  

“William.” Kirin’s voice commanded. Will looked up at Ross, emotions chasing themselves across his face. With a hint of reluctance, he turned away and walked to Kirin. Ross felt a little pang and wondered if he would ever sit in that attic bedroom again.

“You will live long enough to regret this,” warned Kirin.

 _“Fuck you,”_ Ross spat. “Get out of my party.”

 

* * *

Dawn shifted the color of the sky outside, bright white light reflecting on the new snow that fell in the night. Walking out to Smith’s car had felt like walking into some other world, out of the dark and fetid warehouse into the sharp morning. Ross had wanted to stand there, staring into the bright morning breaking over the city. But Sips and Trott pulled him along and they all clambered into the car to go home.

Smith stood in the bathtub, spraying Ross down with the showerhead. He touched the gash in Ross’ cheek, frowning. His fingers were soft, barely skimming the surface of Ross’ face.

“I’ll fix it later,” Ross said. His eyes were closed and he sat with his knees pulled up to his chest. He was glad to be out of his clothes, stiff with dried blood and sweat. The rest of the night was a blur to him now.

“You sure you don’t want me to-”

“Leave it.” Ross blinked. “I don’t want to mess with it right now.”

Smith nodded and and curled his fingers through Ross’ hair instead, scratching at his scalp. Ross closed his eyes again. The wound was only a minor irritation now. But it was a sore thing he couldn’t help prodding, an ache he didn’t want to lose yet. His worries about everything from Kirin to the coming year kept tumbling through his mind. They were slowing though, with the easy comfort of the water and Smith standing over him. Ross leaned back into Smith’s legs.

“You are magnificent when you’re destroying things,” Smith noted. “I could watch you break faces all day.” Ross rubbed his face against Smith’s thigh, quietly pleased. Smith’s hand on his head held him tightly and Ross felt more loved in that moment than he ever had. Maybe they could go cause some trouble now that Trott’s plan was complete. He was looking forward to some relaxing mayhem with his most favorite people.

 

* * *

“You’ll be safer now,” Trott said to Sips. They sat on the the edge of the bed in their boxers. Sips wore his crown again, pleased to be rightful king once more. His black baseball cap with the gold embroidered crown was a lucky find one day, because after that first week they had never managed to get Sips to keep hold of those paper crowns. Somehow it suited him more, as strangely casual as Sips himself.

“Was that was this was all about?” asked Sips with a yawn.

Trott nodded and took a long drink of water, washing the taste of blood and ash out of his mouth. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Beside him Sips crossed his arms, looking thoughtful.

“Why didn’t you make that deal for everyone?”

Trott just shook his head.

“We have to keep you safe, that’s why.”

“You big dummy, I could have just ordered you to make the deal for everyone.”

“It had to play out this way,” Trott said finally. He looked thoughtful. “He wouldn’t have agreed for all of us. But he doesn’t think you matter in the big picture, so he made the trade because he thinks his boy is the more important piece.”

Sips made a noncommittal sound and leaned back on his hands.

“He’s wrong though.” Trott drained his glass and put it on the bedside table. He looked slyly at Sips, twined their fingers together on the bed. They’d managed to get away with it. Trott really hadn’t been sure it would come off but now it was done. Their king was safe as he could be right now and they had another year. It was a relief.

“We’ll see I guess.” Sips looked at his suit, crumpled on the floor. “That’s going to be a hell of a dry cleaning bill.”

“I’ll sort it out,” Trott said, voice full of weariness. He called out to the bathroom where he could hear the shower still running. “Smith, Ross is probably clean by now. Stop splashing around and come to bed.”

Sips stood up to peel off his socks, yawning and stretching. A few moments later, Smith loped into the room and grinned. He leaped on Trott and they scuffled a bit, Trott swearing as Smith laughed and tried to roll him into a blanket. Ross was more subdued, obviously worn down by the evening.

“You did a good job,” Sips said plainly. He put an arm around Ross’ waist, soaking in the residual heat of the bath on his skin. Ross smiled, something shy in his expression as he turned to put his arms around Sips. His last worries melted in the sense of warm contentment he felt as Sips patted him on the back.

“Come on,” Trott grumbled from the bed. Smith was curled against his back.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sips and Ross joined them. The four of them jostled and shifted for position, tugging at pillows and blankets as they all tried to pile on Ross at once. Ross made a happy little sound as he sank into the bed on his back.

“Trott,” Smith whined, dragging out the sound of his name. They shoved at each other.

“You can’t have Ross all to yourself, make up your mind where you want to sleep.” Trott tucked himself into a blanket against Ross’ side.

“But I-”

“Come here,” Sips yawned. He was resting comfortably with his head on Ross’ other shoulder. “You can be the big spoon, Smiffy, I know you like that.”

“Here,” Ross said with a tired smile. He dragged Smith forward so he could sprawl on Ross’ chest like a large and unruly pet. “Settle down, get that bedspread.” Smith grinned at him, and draped the fluffy comforter over them. He stretched up to press a lingering kiss to Ross’ lips.

“Go to sleep,” Trott demanded. But he kissed Ross’ shoulder, trying not to smile at them.  

“Waffles later?” Ross asked hopefully, his voice soft. Sips was already snoring on his other side. Smith shifted restlessly and Ross put an arm around him.

“Anything you want,” Trott agreed.

 


End file.
